A lake and a song
by patri15h
Summary: Katniss Everdeen has survived the war at the cost of losing her sister, Primrose Everdeen. Her death has plunged Katniss into darkness and the desire to follow her steps is, at least, very suggestive. Everyone seems to have abandoned her with her demons back at twelve, but there is someone who will not let the girl on fire surrender so easily...
1. Chapter 1

_**Chapter 1: Dreams (prologue)**_

I try to open my eyes without so much success. When I finally get to open them I can tell it's midday, judging by the sun's position in the sky. Like every other day, I wake up empty. That's the only adjective able to define my situation on its wholeness. At first, after returning to twelve, I thought it was sadness. However, the sadness gave way to the ire and the ire went, letting in the loneliness.

Now I feel a mix of them: sadness for those who will never return, ire for everything that was taken from me and loneliness because I haven't got him by my side. I don't have him, the one who could soothe me, the one who could make me feel again what my sister gave me one day: hope. But now I've none of them both. My sister died, engulfed in the flames her own sibling stirred. And he's not dead, but he hates me so much that he's forgotten how much he loved me once. So much that he will never come back to me. Then, I cry.

I writhe in pain in a tears sea, deep green like Finnick's eyes. The flames surround me, devouring in front of my eyes everything that some time had a meaning for me: my home, my district, my friends, my family, my lover.

When I look up I see them. They're all there, staring at my eyes, waiting patiently for the flames to consume them. I wish with all my heart to catch fire among them, for the flames to finally engulf me and finish with this agony. However, they're not that kind. They start rising up, making them cry for me to see. Their cries overwhelm me. I feel helpless, the same way I remember feeling the day Prim exploded in small pieces and wrapped up in flames.

I call them, I try to catch them, but it's useless. It gets worse when I try to locate the origin of the fire and I acknowledge that it's me, the one and only girl on fire. Blazes jet off with each beating of my agitated heart. I understand that it's real, that I've been the cause of all those deaths. And I cry. I cry in a way I've never cried before because I feel the weight of all those loses resting on my back.

Suddenly, between all the heat of the fire that burns everything, I locate a couple of eyes that stare directly at me and I stop crying abruptly. I stop because I do recognize that intense blue. I do recognize that brightness and that sweetness. And, again, I get lost in his look; I let myself have hope, even if it's only a dream.

* * *

 _Hello, one and all! Here I present you my story (already published in Spanish and had a good acceptance). As you can guess, I'm not a native English speaker, sooo... I'm looking forward to finding a benevolent soul to beta read my story. Here I leave you with the brief prologue of the fanfic. Whoever interested in beta reading, feel free to PM me. Thanks a lot and I hope you enjoy!_

 _Read you soon ;)_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter 2: Scents and memories**_

I wake up lying on the couch like I've done every day for more than five months. I'm at my house of the Victor's Village, and I haven't been outside since I came back to twelve. Sae comes three times per day, once for each a meal that I barely touch.

I'm a sack of bones. I don't remember being this thin, not even in those months that followed to my dad's death. Of course, that time I had someone that looked after me and my family and saved us. I had by my side my dandelion in the spring.

I miss him so much that it hurts.

I wait for Morfeo to take me back again to my particular nightmares hell, but it seems that this morning he has other plans. The sleep doesn't come and, strangely enough, given the circumstances, I feel a weird calmness flooding over me that I hadn't felt since a long time.

At first, I'm not able to determine the reason of this sudden change on my pathetic routine, which consists basically on a series of cries and sobs staring vacantly at the wall, only disrupted sometimes by Sae and her persistent granddaughter insisting me to eat.

I leave the couch in a vague attempt to find out the reason for this change, supposing that something new has had to trigger it. I don't see anything out of place in the room so I automatically change my mental state from "mentally disoriented" to "stark raving mad". It seems to fit me.

I'm trying to put those thoughts apart, knowing they will drove me more insane -if that is even possible- when I feel that well-known peace again. A very subtle scent was ascending through my nostrils, reaching my cracked brain and making it fall apart with memories.

I run to the corridor, making my still sleepy legs crash into every obstacle that I find on my way. Stumbling, I reach the door. I'm sure that it comes from here. I feel a heat wave rushing through my entire body. Gathering the little courage I have left, I take the doorknob in my hand and I open it, more inspired by the incredulity than by the braveness. And there it is.

It turns out that I'm not that crazy. There, at my feet, I find a basket that emanates the unmistakable scent that has guided me through my house; the scent that a lot of years ago turned into something much more than that; the scent that even nowadays makes me feel safe.

The scent of freshly baked bread.

* * *

 _Second chapter. Not much more to say right now. Still looking for a beta. Any thoughts welcomed :)_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Chapter 3: Reborn**_

I close my eyes and inhale slowly the air impregnated with the marvelous freshly baked bread's smell. I let my lungs enjoy the aroma that in my mind awakes the hope. I open my eyes again and I look down to the basket trying to convince myself that it's real. When I finally decide that it is I bend down to pick it up. I notice for the first time the appearance of the small basket: it seems to be made of a plant that once was green and that someone left it dry on purpose. Then I remember how during the Victory Tour, stopping over in District 4, they showed us a plant called reed that grew on wet floors and that they used for the basket making. I remember Mags' skilled fingers on the arena of my second Games, weaving bowls with odd plants for us to drink the water we'd extracted from the trees with the spile that Haymitch sent us. The basket's design is practically the same. The bread is still hot, fresh out the oven. Automatically I raise my eyes forward, trying to see something that I already suspect. And I see it.

Even though that it's beginning to get light, the slight light that gives off the gray sky of twelve is not enough for baking inside. That's why I can see the light of his kitchen on, allowing me to contemplate his silhouette through the window. It's him! He's here, in his house in front of mine, baking like he did before this nightmare started. Like he did before I became a mutt in his eyes. Actually, I've thought a lot on that after everything ended and I've come to the conclusion that maybe he was not so wrong. Only the mutts are able to create the chaos and the destruction like I've done. Then, I understand. Peeta is back; he is really back. How on hell would he leave me freshly baked bread on my porch if he still considered me a mutt?

An immense joy shakes me from top to bottom. Instead of letting myself get swept up in emotion, I try to think with my head. Could it be possible that he mixed up the houses? That his intention was to leave it to Haymitch? I immediately cast aside the nonsense. Maybe Peeta was hijacked by the Capitol but I saw by myself that he didn't hate our mentor, he only was mad at him for logical things. There's no reason for him not to hand out the bread to Haymitch if he intended to. Besides, I doubt that he has already forgotten how does Haymitch's smells.

This bread is for me.

Instinctively, I close the door and I head to the kitchen where the breakfast Sae has left me is still warm. I cut a slice of bread and, for the first time in a long while, I enjoy the meal. When I've finished, I do hastily the dishes and climb up the stairs two at a time to my bedroom. Knowing that Peeta is finally back, pushes me to remove from my body the thick layer of grime that I've been wearing since I came home. I fill the bath to the top with hot water and, after pulling off the clothes that I'd glued to my skin, I sink in it. I feel my skin scream with delight, having finally some comfort after so much suffering. Also does my mind, knowing that this must be the start of something new. It has to be.

When I step out of the tube, my hair and skin seem again mine. Not the skin and hair of that brave girl of before the Games, not of that scared-to-death Victor, not even of that mad girl that defeated the Capitol and survived to tell it. They're a property of a new woman, marked by the scars that the War left all through her body and heart. The patched skin shines under the promise of a new era. The hair, still burned in some places, grows strong recovering from the past that almost finished up with it. Almost.

I put on some new jeans and a comfortable T-shirt that I haven't seen before in my closet. They must be Cinna's. My eyes fill up with tears at the memory of my dear friend that died for me and my stupidity, and I feel myself starting to tremble. Forcing to stop the course of my thoughts, I go downstairs without drying my hair. Sae is already here cooking the lunch. She looks at me, puzzled by my change of attitude. "Wow! It looks like the boy's return hasn't gone unnoticed to you…" She exclaims.

Apparently, I've been the last to know it. I don't give her any response (really, what could I say?) before heading outside. It's the first time I put a step on a floor that it's not the scratchy wooden one that I've got at home. Dubiously, I put one foot in front of the other until I'm staring directly at the door of Peeta's house. I'm trying to weigh if this is or not a good idea -if he is ready to see me again; if I am ready to do it- when the door opens.

Before me, I've got a very changed Peeta Mellark. Physically he's almost the same: the same broad shoulders, the same strong jaw, the same golden curls… But something within his amazing blue eyes is different. There's something new, a glimpse of something that unsettles me. A glimpse of distrust. By me. For me.

"Hello, Katniss," He says, a bit accusatorially. I'm not imagining it, I know why. I've murdered his family and friends. I've destroyed his life and everything he got. I've played with him, used him like another piece in my Games. And I know it. And he knows it.

I'm not ready for this.

* * *

 _A third one. Any suggestions? Gonna be a busy day, few more to come. Hope someone is enjoying!_


	4. Chapter 4

_**Chapter 4: Drowning**_

I stay stuck there, without knowing what to do or say. Of course, there're a lot of things we could… no, that we must discuss. A lot of things need to be clarified and a lot more need to heal before discussing anything else. We both are far from being healed. I can still see the torture in his eyes, the blame that –aware or not– he rests on my back. And my heart still aches, having lost the so necessary strength to keep beating and missing a sister that will never return.

His eyes burn holes in mines and I –coward of me– can't hold his stare. I'd want to think that I can't because I'm not that arrogant because I can't bear the pain that those blue orbs emanate for my fault. But that's not the reason. It's much simple and so much despicable than that. I can't hold his gaze because I can't deal with the thought that he may never love me again like some time he did. It's because I know he sees me now for who I really am. A fire mutt that destroys everything it touches. A vile and cruel person that only sees her loses and that writhes in self-pity every night when the moon comes out, even if the War left more than one hundred thousand deaths.

I stare at the ground under our feet and I feel all the emotions that filled my chest seconds ago leave in a rush. How could I be so stupid and think that he was going to… to do what, exactly? Receive me with open arms? Kiss me, maybe? I should be grateful that despite everything he has endured he –don't ask me why– still tolerates being anywhere near me. I should be grateful for him still being almost he. Almost.

Suddenly, I feel a warm hand cupping my face, forcing me gently to look ahead. I can't believe what's happening. I must be dreaming. Or much worse, he's only pretending for the cameras and after they leave he will try to kill me. Or even so much worse, he will ignore me for the rest of our lives.

But that's not Peeta, that's me. I was the one who turned around and gave him the back when he needed me the most. I was the one who left him alone fighting against the odds, trying to return to this crazy world where everything sucks. Maybe he was better in that other place on his mind, where everything was like always had been, except for me.

Of course, he was better there.

But he decided to come back, and I don't know why, but he's staring at me again with those soft blue eyes that melt me. "I missed you," He says in a gentle tone with a half-smile on his face. And even though I try to avoid it, I start crying.

I cry without relief even more when he, not asking for permission, embraces me and tries to soothe me, enveloping my little frame with those strong, warm arms. I feel awful for this because I don't deserve it. I don't deserve him nor anything good that is left in this damn world. And yet I have it, after months of reclusion trying to drown myself in agony I have this wonderful man consoling me. I don't know for how much time will it be, I don't even know if he's only doing this because he has pity on me, but it's already much more than what I dared to ask for this morning and for the remaining ones of the rest of my life.

"Katniss, what's up? I thought you would be glad to see me again," Peeta says cupping my face with his both hands and forcing me to look at him. "I know I wasn't the same for a long time," He continues. "but now I'm almost healed. I mean, I still have flashbacks and…"

"Stop!" I cut him. "Stop it, Peeta please," I beg still sobbing. He releases me with a wounded look, stepping back and giving me space. Or maybe giving space himself, I don't know. "I can't pretend anymore, Peeta. I'm so happy to see you again, to see that you're healthy and able to overcome the War. But I can't act like nothing happened and like I didn't fuck up your mind."

"And you didn't!" He screams. "That wasn't you who injected me the Tracker Jacker venom. And I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry that I wasn't able to fight it back for so long. But I'm trying now. I'm trying to recover what they took from me. I'm trying to be the man you remember."

"Why?" I question with a small voice. I can't understand why is he so eager to be that man for me. He can't love me the way he did before. He will never do it again. So, if love is not what moves him this time, what is it?

"Why what, Katniss? Why am I trying to heal? Why am I trying to be who I was?" He asks to the air more than to me. His voice is low, deep and a bit sad. "It's not for you, Katniss. I'd love to say that it is because that'd mean that I'm healed, that I'm back. But I'm not and I doubt I will ever be. So, it's not for you, don't be afraid," He says with bitterness like he's used to be rejected by me every time he opens his heart. In fact, he is. And it's my fault. I don't blame him. "I'm trying to be that man again because I remember him. I remember that people liked me for who I was. I remember them saying that I was my father's son and I want to recover that. I want him to be proud of me again, wherever he is."

I can see tears flooding his eyes when he finishes. I don't know what to say or if I'm supposed to say something at all. I don't know this man anymore, even if he apparently is the same. He's not my Peeta anymore, the same way I'm not that girl he fell in love with. We're strangers to each other, the dark shadows of the persons we used to be.

I run back home, not daring to look back before getting in. I rest my back against the door when I close it behind me and I slide to the floor. I'm drowning again, this time in a pool of Peeta's tears.

* * *

 _Okay, some not-healed-yet feelings here. Still too early for this two to reconnect. One step at a time, kids ;)_


	5. Chapter 5

_**Chapter 5: Regrets**_

When I'm finally able to pull myself together it's already dark outside. I feel my cheeks like if they were cardboard due to the dry tears I let escape before. I walk to the sofa and collapse onto it. I've been in some state of half-consciousness while I was lying on the floor, just under the door where I started sobbing when I came back. The demons haunt me every time I dare to close my eyes, and so they've done this time, flattering me with their fucking presence one more time. I don't call them, but they always come to me, finding their way even if they've to dig deep into my mind in a very twisted way like they have done today.

At first, I only heard my own thoughts and cries. No sound dared to burst in the shut-out Victor's Village, where only the sorrow and death had ever put a foot into. My yelling echoed all-through the Village, reverberating on every single wall of my house. And finally, when my howling was already fading, I heard him.

I thought I was dreaming, deep sink on a very well-known place I called hell, but it was something much worse than that. It was really him, howling even louder than I was, shattering the dishes against walls and floors. It wasn't really him; it wasn't my boy with the bread anymore. It was his alter-ego, the mutt that the Capitol created to kill me, the twisted mind that I by myself had finally corrupted. He was yelling to the air, lost in a flashback that I knew I'd triggered. I was still hurting him, no matter how much I hated it. I always find ways to hurt him, in the same way the demons always find their way to me every time I close my eyelids.

Inevitable, no matter what I try. Hurtful, even if I don't do anything.

And now there's only silence, even more threatening than the thundering echo of our own cries and pleas. Because the sound means that there's yet something to fight for and the silence means that there's nothing else to live for. That we have given up.

I don't know why I insisted on coming back to this shitty real world when he returned. I knew he was not okay and I knew even better I wasn't either. I was already too damaged without seeing him, without seeing his accusatorial eyes, without hearing my own mind remembering my red eyes they had to cry –again– for what I had done to him, to my sister, to Finnick, to Cinna, to the rest of the world.

Drifting on nightmare seas I succumb to the sleep, tired of fighting for something and someone I've already lost.

A hard knock on the front door wakes me up from the terrifying dream where my sister became a snake with Snow's eyes. A couple more knocks startle me before I'm able to realize that I'm alone –as always– and that I've to stand up and yell to that dumb if I want whoever that is on the other side to stop bothering me.

Irked for this interruption, I walk to the door, preparing myself to shout at who is behind it and seems to be trying to bring it down. It can't be Sae this late –she must be with her granddaughter at home– so I'm not afraid of losing control with whoever is on the other side. I mean, I don't really care about anybody else aside of Sae and Peeta, and this last obviously is not the one knocking at my door.

When I open it I see a face I didn't expect to see anymore. I thought he was drifting on alcohol like I was on nightmares. I even thought he was not here anymore. He didn't do anything for me when we came back, I didn't even see him after we arrived and he got into his dark house. So, I don't understand why's he here standing in front of me, looking at me like he's looking to a wounded fawn, afraid that I'm going to slam the door at him if he steps out of the path.

He's wrong then. I'm not wounded, I'm absolutely broken. And I'm not a fawn anymore, I'm more like the dead slug he compared me to a long time ago.

Not charming. Not alive.

* * *

 _Hey! More unstable Katniss in this one. Hope you're enjoying these first chapters. Any comments? Nobody? Okay, still waiting for you :)_


	6. Chapter 6

_**Chapter 6: Guest**_

"Night, sweetheart. Can I come in?" Says Haymitch, like nothing has changed since the last time we saw each other. In fact, it hasn't, but for me it has. I'm not the same person who left the Capitol so many months ago. I'm not that disoriented girl, unconscious of the real significance of the death of so many people. Right now I'm very aware of what that everything means to me, to the world, to him. And it's much worse.

"What do you want?" I ask not very friendly. I don't mind how he feels right now. I don't even know if I will ever mind how the rest of the world feels. To me, everything is painted in a dark shadow of gray. Dull, dead gray.

"Nice to see you again, too. Now, are you letting me in or do I have to push you aside?" He replays ignoring my not kind question. I know it's useless arguing with him, so I step away from the door. "Thanks," He says winking at me. Stupid bastard…

He goes straight to the sitting room and sits down on the rocking chair close to the fireplace. I haven't light up any fire yet, it's not that cold. Not like that I even cared a day ago. I take place in front of him, requiring him with my eyes to start saying everything he has come to say. I'm sure I will want to hear it. Haymitch is not the kind of person that likes to waste his time discussing things that are not important, at the very least. Even less if he can spend it drowning in alcohol –and he comes sober–, so I decide to hear what he has to say.

"So?" I blurt out. I'm not being polite with him anymore. Not after what he has done. "Sorry, you said?" Says Haymitch sardonic as always. He knows well how to irk me. "Look Haymitch, if you've come to tease me I suggest you leave, I'm not in that mood." My voice, instead of sounding authoritarian like I pretended, breaks at the end of the sentence. This is too much to handle in a day.

Sensing it, my mentor changes automatically his demeanor. "Alright, sweetheart. I come from talking to the boy."

So he also knew it. He knew Peeta was coming back and he didn't think I deserved to know it. Me, having shared almost every single moment of the last three years thinking of Peeta or fighting along Peeta or dying next to Peeta; me, his district partner, his friend, his fiancée, his lover, after all, was not worthy of knowing he was coming back. Healthy, healed enough to recognize his home, cured enough to bear my presence not seventy-five feet away.

I knew I wasn't worth it, but it still hurts to see it implicit in the acts of people you some time loved.

I try to toss aside the tears in my eyes and fix them on the dull, gray orbs of my mentor. They are recognizable because they're the same numb kind of gray I see the world in; without any spark, having seen much more than someone should have seen in a whole life.

"Then, you also knew it?" I ask.

"What?" Questions Haymitch really confused.

"You knew he was coming back, like the rest of this district and the rest of Panem I suppose. Well, aside from me, of course. I didn't know anything. I really thought he was lost in some dark, wet place of his mind, fighting his demons like I was. Not baking. Not returning home, Haymitch!" I start yelling and I feel myself beginning to lose control. Well, I already knew this was going to happen when I went to open the door. "I didn't picture him baking bread again, not even in my craziest dreams, you idiot!" I'm already crying like a small girl. I doubt he's even able to understand me. "I thought he was gone, Haymitch. I really thought he was gone"

I repeat it again and again. I don't feel Haymitch approaching me, holding me against his chest, rocking me on his lap like my father did when I was young and I got hurt hunting. I don't feel anything because I've been in danger for too long. Still stuck in my mind, locking up my feelings inside a hermetic box, away from anyone who wants to shatter them, even from myself.

* * *

 _A new one, everybody! Haymitch's first appearance, but not last, take that for granted. Any questions/thoughts you wanna share? Go ahead!_


	7. Chapter 7

_**Chapter 7: Still mourning**_

I spend the next two weeks back on my particular routine, rocking back and forth on my chair, the same one that Haymitch occupied the day Peeta came back. After my mentor left, leaving me sound sleeping –or that he thought– after my outburst, I spent the rest of the night staring vacantly to the dead fireplace, trying to figure out what was I expecting from myself from then on. At some time, the tiredness forced me to a disturbed sleep where I was surrounded by insecurity, lack of love and angst. It didn't differ from the real life, actually.

Sae still comes every morning, like she has been doing since the day I returned to twelve and found that she was already here reconstructing her home –more for her granddaughter than for herself, I suppose. I can tell that I would be doing the same thing if my sister still lived, but she doesn't and I don't have anyone else to fight for.

"Girl, the breakfast is ready!" calls Sae from the kitchen. I shuffle through the sitting-room to the kitchen and take place at the table in front of my fried eggs. My routine only differs in this. Now I eat every single bit that Sae cooks me, but only because the hunger has returned. I don't know why it has, but I can't ignore it anymore. Aside from this, the rest is the same.

"Are you hunting today? We need fresh meat," Says Sae when I'm about to finish my breakfast. I stare at her and raise my eyebrows, skeptically. "Okay, forget it. But I know you will some time. Remember me when you do it," She says laughing.

I finish with my eggs and return to the couch to look outside through the window. It's a nice day outdoors, warm and sunny, a rarity here in twelve. Summers here are not as hot as in other districts, at least not as common. Now and then the clouds make shadows on the walls of the houses of the Victor's Village, making them look prettier than they really are. These houses aren't pretty; ones for being vacant and the remaining three for only have ever been inhabited by three broken Victors. These houses are not pretty; they are numb, still, gray, impressive even, but never pretty. They are dark, vacuum and unhappy, like the people that reside in them.

A glimpse of golden hair catches my eye after midday. Peeta is leaving the house to head to town –I imagine, for the path he takes down the Village–. He passes my door and continues his walk without looking anywhere but to the ground. Is the first time in two weeks that I see him, so I take advantage of the orientation of my window to stare at him while he walks through the street. He looks healthy, even more than two weeks before when he had just arrived from the Capitol. I don't know –and really don't want to imagine at all– what he had to endure during his treatment in the Capitol, but it could not have been entirely bad. I mean, at least it's evident that he had been eating much more than I have, so it means he didn't give up on himself. The incident of the Nightlock pill pops-up in my mind and I remember him saying to me "I can't" when I was trying to end with my life.

What couldn't he? For a long time, I thought that he was suffering a flashback and lost his mind, taken away from me again because of the Capitol. After that a much worse thought dug into my mind, making me believe that he was not suffering any flashback. I started thinking that he was completely aware of what he was doing, that what he truly intended was to make me deal with the consequences of every life I have destroyed, not letting me swallow the purple pill. I thought he was trying to punish me, not allowing me to take the short path and reunite with my beloved sister.

I remember as well that I had a crazy thought where Peeta was trying to protect me like we used to do before; like I told him we did when we went underground into the Transfer. But it was only that, a crazy thought. He was not protecting me anymore and I was more vulnerable than ever.

I lose sight of him when he reaches the entrance of the Village and heads out. I don't know what he has to do in town, not that he has a family to visit there; I took that from him too.

A few hours later, when Sae and I have finished eating our meal long ago, the clear sky of before starts getting gray and a summer strong storm threats the district. "I think I should head home before it starts pouring down. Some things never change, I suppose," Says Sae happily, referring to the so usual storms that flood twelve every summer once a month, at least. Sometime they even last a full week.

I nod, making her know that I will be okay. This house can be sad, but it fills its mission perfectly. I would be more afraid for those who live in the Seam and don't have a proper roof over their heads. Then I remember that there's no Seam left to be afraid of, and I restrain my own thoughts. That's my fault too.

Sae gives me a quick kiss on the cheek and before leaving she adds: "I hope you could see the effort that the boy has made for coming back to you. You may not know two weeks ago, but now you know that he's as sane as he can be. You should give yourself a chance of being happy again, Katniss. It's time to stop grieving over your sister".

Her hand is cupping my face and I shove it back when she mentions Prim, furious. I won't allow her to determine when I have to stop thinking about my sister. That will never happen. I will always be crying for her until the day I can finally meet her again.

Sae smiles sadly at me, her hand still on her side. "I have faith in you, Katniss. You're much stronger than this," She says lovingly, ignoring my scowl. After that, she leaves the house without looking back and I'm left alone in the emptiness of a house that isn't a home anymore. When she shuts the door, a thunder rumbles outside and the rain starts falling down strong, the same way my tears do without my permission.

* * *

 _Slowly healing. A tricky path we're taking along Katniss. As you can start to perceive, it's gonna be a long way till this both get to be happy together. Is a canon thing -sort of- so you can't wait for any major twists. Of course, there're tons of things to tell that weren't written by Suzzane Collins and elicited us to write fanfics. That's gonna be the soul of this story, the "growing back together". Hope it's what you're expecting ;)_


	8. Chapter 8

_**Chapter 8: The cost of healing**_

Even if I don't want to recognize it, Sae's words get stuck in my mind the whole day. I keep repeating them in my head for hours until the sun goes down and the first glimpse of dark appears in the sky. I'm still playing with the image of a not-so-numb Katniss -not guessing how can that be possible- when I see Peeta returning from the town. He is clearly tired, broad shoulders sunken and crestfallen. His white simple shirt is muddy as if he had been working in the mines for the whole day, even if there are no longer any mines to work in. His golden curls are damp, glued to his forehead, having lost their brightness and greyed under the pale light of the late afternoon. He takes out his keys from the pocket of his jeans and, before entering his house, he looks back. He can't see me, covered behind the curtains of the window of my sitting-room, from where I'm staring at him, but somehow he seems to sense my presence as if he acknowledges I'm here watching him from my rocking chair. It's a brief moment, not even distinguishable if you weren't looking, but I was. He lets out a sigh and crosses the door, and I'm left again with my loneliness.

It's not possible he knows about my comes and goes –actually, there's not any come and go to know about at all-. As far as I know, Haymitch hasn't seen him more than once since he came back, so there are no chances they could have had any chit-chat about my wellbeing. Not that Haymitch is up to small talk, anyway. I do know Sae visits him, though. I don't think she has to prepare him the food he eats like she does with me. Peeta is more than able to cook and, judging by the scent of bread that impregnates the Village, he's always baking when he's at home. However, they must see each other, because Sae seems to now the ups and downs of Peeta's day. When she's home preparing the meal, she will slip a comment here and there about how has Peeta been doing the last week or how good his baking goods still are. There's never anything too heavy nor important, but small details that someone would know about somebody's life if they were close enough. That kind of details I was always too busy to acknowledge when he was mine.

It's closed night by the time I can startle myself from daydreaming about how could Peeta know if I was here sitting. I determine it is too presumptuous of myself to think Peeta gives a shit about me at all after all. He clearly stated the day we saw each other that he wasn't here for me, and I can't blame him for that. Finally, he seems to be recovering; I should step away from his path and let him be. It would be better. Yet, I can't find out why would he return to Twelve if he wanted to stay away from me. He doesn't, that's a fact. If he would he would have simply established in any other district. He has no boundaries, not political not familiar ones. So, if he chose to come back, knowing I was here, was because he wanted to face me. He stated that leaving me the basket with the bread.

And that's what drives me insane. Who in hell would want to see... no, not see, to even share the same air with the girl that destroyed his life? Who's that crazy that punishes himself by having to walk by her door every single day, knowing she's alive within those walls? I can't understand it. If I were him, I would have fled far from myself, as far as I could, to ensure I won't have to see again my face.

Maybe there's still that difference between us. The same one that Haymitch pointed out the night the Quarter Quell was announced; the same that made me unworthy of his love. Maybe there's still a glimpse of the old Peeta inside him, trying to overcome all the pain and confusion Snow induced to his brain. Maybe the boy with the bread is still there and that's why he's here, partially at least.

The more I think about it, the more I get convinced about it. And I shiver. I really hope I'm wrong. There's no more room for the boy with the bread in this house; in this district; in this world. He was too good for us, too good that we didn't deserve him. Maybe that's why Snow had to break him. He had to shatter that kind man he was because we, as human beings, have never been good at taking care of anything pure within this world. Snow wasn't that different from any of us. The only difference between him and us was the power he owned. And that made clear when Coin, for a brief moment, got to know that power. They had the same twisted mind; like mine, like everyone else's. Except Peeta's. He was different and -like we have always done in history- we exploited him until there was nothing left. I was the one who opened fire, the rest just followed. I presented his head to Snow saving him first and caring for him later. I should have stayed away. I should have run away with Gale that day in the woods. I shouldn't have suggested to bring him with us.

I should have left him behind.

By now, he would probably be dead, like the rest of his family, but he would be unchanged like he always wanted. I took that from him too, and bearing with the consequences of it it's going to be my burden as long as we live in front of each other and I see him coming back from town with sunken shoulders, darkened eyes, and a low head.

Maybe that's why. Maybe he came back to make me pay for his disgrace by walking by my door every morning for the rest of our lives.

* * *

 _Hello again! Here's the daily update. The next one is gonna be a long one, so brace yourself for the travel ;) Any thoughts on how's the story developing?_


	9. Chapter 9

_**Chapter 9: Routine**_

I occupy my time looking through the window now. I wake up; I take a shower; I go downstairs to have my breakfast with Sae and the girl; I stare out the window. I repeat the process every day in-between every meal. It's like a routine, and it feels okay. Sae says I should go out, that my skin is almost translucent, that I need to synthesize sun vitamins if I want to stay alive. She's probably right, but I haven't decided yet if I want to stay alive. I don't know really if I want to keep the promise I made to Haymitch before we entered the arena.

Meanwhile, I keep eating. Just in case.

I never see him, but he must be up to something beyond drinking alcohol to unconsciousness. I started hearing some goose noises coming from his backyard a couple of weeks ago and saw Peeta crossing the road to our mentor's house with some sort of barbed wire under his armpit. The last Monday, after almost a week seeing them coming back and forth, I was intrigued enough to go upstairs to try and have a peek at what was happening there, but then I remembered the only window that faced Haymitch's backyard was Prim's, so the spark of curiousness that was starting to lit fell dead instantly and I returned downstairs to my spot.

I've become some kind of hermit that barely speaks. I'm like the horses of the Parade, with those blinders that force them to look only to what lies ahead. The window is my blinder since I can only see what's happening just in front of it. The rest of the world is just nonexistent to me, and I prefer if it stays that way. Out of sight out of mind.

But the relative peace that I've somehow managed to find doesn't last long. That same week, my routine changes without any warning.

I wake up like every other day. After staring vacantly at the ceiling for some minutes trying to forget the pool of blood I was diving into in my nightmare, I throw off of my sweaty panties and head to the shower. It's being the hottest August since I can remember and, even if at nights it cools down a bit, it's not enough to sleep in more than panties. I rub mi patched skin as if there was no tomorrow, trying to scrub off all the warm blood I can still feel covering me. When I'm finished, I step out the tub, put on some shorts and a tee and head downstairs without bothering with my wet hair. It will bring some freshness until it dries completely.

I'm surprised that Sae's not here yet. Normally she's home early in the morning before I can't even take my shower. I decide I will wait for her, she may have had to do something in town, even if I don't know if there's anything to do at all. The last time I saw it, it was an ash-covered muddy field. And that's how it stays in my mind.

I sit down in my rocking chair and stare out the window, but since it's not my usual time of the day to do so, I start feeling uncomfortable and desist. There's nothing interesting happening outside anyway. I move throughout the whole place while my stomach starts rumbling. Why's she this late? She should be more considerate of my cheeks since they're starting to gain some flesh. So annoying with them and now she forgets I have to eat.

After the clock shows half past twelve and there's no signal of Sae, I even entertain the idea of cooking something by myself, but I quickly cast it aside. There's nothing in my cupboards. The old woman brings the food with her every day. I start getting angry after midday. What in hell does she think? That she's somehow going to force me to go downtown in her search? Is this her way to make me get some sun vitamins? She's nuts then. I'm not putting a step into that place.

I'm determined not to go out for almost fifteen minutes, but my stomach makes a loud noise after that and all my resolution is brought down. I can't be this weak, can I? Come on, I've been all my life suffering from starvation and now I'm not even able to stand half a day without eating? Apparently not.

I'm trying to assess my possibilities, trying to determinate the best action plan not to look foolish and serve her the victory so easily, when I remember Haymitch's geese. That's it! He must have reconverted his backyard in some sort of geese farm. I don't understand how's that going to work for Haymitch, but I'm okay with it if the animals provide me some meat. I could steal half the gaggle and I'm sure he won't notice it. He's so bad taking care of anything…

Not thinking too much about it, I open the back door of my house and head outside. The sunlight burns my skin instantly and I miss my tanned skin like never before. Is this what Peeta feels all the time? I sneak out through the partially broken fence in the lateral of the house and head towards Haymitch's. I make no sound and I'm grateful for it. Like Sae would say, some things never change, and my feet seem to remember perfectly how to move without making any noise at all. Feeling the grass between my toes again is comforting and I'm enjoying the short path between Haymitch's house and mine more than I intended. Damn it, Sae. This is your fault.

I finally reach the bush that marks the boundary between the street and Haymitch's backyard. I try to look through it, but it's too thick. I guess I will have to intuit the best place to take the leap. I make a mental plane of my house's backyard since it's identical to Haymitch's, and decide the far left corner is the best place not to fall squarely on the fence. If I were to make an enclosure for a gaggle, I would choose the far right corner. Haymitch usually sleeps in the kitchen, so placing the enclosure there would be the best if you want to have some sleep without hearing the geese squawk the whole night. He could even keep an eye on them from the kitchen without having to go out. I convince myself that has to be the distribution and jump over the bush in a graceful movement.

I'm almost grinning because I haven't lost my agility after all these months when I see the barbed wire right under my feet. I'm in the air, falling in slow motion while I try to place my body in a way that the wire won't hurt me, but it's useless. Haymitch's logic is indecipherable sometimes. I fall down, losing all my grace through the way, and almost crash on top of one of the geese. They start squawking at my intromission and I let escape a high pitched cry. The barbed wire has scratched the whole side of my right leg and it burns like hell. I cover my mouth with both hands when I hear voices coming from the inside of the kitchen. "What was that?" says Peeta. What is he doing here? I didn't see him coming this morning. "What was what, boy?" asks an annoyed and drunk Haymitch. I take shelter behind the small shed they must have built for the tools and wait. "You could have seen me if you had placed the enclosure in the right corner, you asshole" I say, with bated breath while I wipe the blood that's running down my calf. "The geese, Haymitch! Oh, my lord… I don't know when I thought this was a good idea. You can't even take care of yourself, let alone a full gaggle" laments Peeta. "Hey kiddo, that's offensive. At least I know how to feed myself, not like that fiancée of yours". Of course, he's talking about me but I can't determine what makes me angrier if hearing that coming from a drunken mentor or not hearing any denial at all from Peeta.

They resume with whatever task they were completing and I, annoyed, sneak back inside the enclosure. I'm more cautious this time not to startle the geese. I take a quick glance at them: they seem to be well fed. Maybe Haymitch is not so horrible at this. Or maybe Peeta is taking care of the geese. Who knows. Anyway, I'm grateful they did their job. I will have a feast at their expense.

When I decide which of the geese I'm taking home, I prepare myself. The back to the bush, eyes fixated on my objective. It feels like hunting again. There's no bow this time, though. When the silly geese get accustomed to my presence, I launch myself against the big one I selected, aiming with my hands for the long neck. It's going to be quick and easy. With the left hand, I will hold the beak, so it doesn't make noise, and with the right one, I will grab it by the neck, pressing the rest of the bird under my armpit and the side of my body. Easy peasy.

But today's not my day.

I overestimate my strength, that it's not at its best, and the stupid goose get's to free itself and starts squawking loudly. I try to catch it by the beak again without much success and in the attempt, it bites my hand. I yell in pain and release it. I thought that a goose couldn't be this stubborn, but they are Haymitch's. How couldn't they?

I keep fighting with the goose, pursuing it all over the backyard while I yell at it, long forgotten the discretion. "Come here, fucking bastard! I'm going to make a soup of you, even if you like it or not!"All the geese start running and agitating their wings because of the brawl and this, of course, finally takes Haymitch and Peeta to the backyard in a rush.

"What the hell? Katniss, what are you doing?" inquires Peeta incredulously when they see me. Haymitch just starts laughing like never before.

I must be a sight: damp hair, blood running down the calf, the left hand useless because of the goose's bite and yelling like the mad girl I am. Pathetic.

I collapse onto the floor, exhausted because of the midday sun and the lack of physical exercise. The goose runs away from me and looks at me lordly. I'm an absolute failure. The only thing in my life I've been proud of is that I've been able to feed my family and myself on my own since I was barely a child. Now that I'm a woman, by all means, I'm not even able to catch an enclosed goose. I shouldn't have left my house. This was a terrible idea.

Almost without noticing it, I start sobbing. The mud I have all over the face because of the short battle with the goose runs down my cheeks dragged by my tears. I'm almost unconscious when Peeta's arms pick me up from the floor and take me inside the house.

* * *

 _Hey! Later than usual but here you are! Chapter 9 already. A very predictable breakdown this one, don't you think? The first time going out after all those months of reclusion... nothing easy. Katniss' has to deal with lots of things, but first step has been taken!_

 _Hope to read from you. Thanks as always :)_


	10. Chapter 10

_**Chapter 10: Asking for help**_

"Are you feeling any better?"

Peeta's question lingers in the air. Am I?

I feel a pressure in my chest that doesn't let me breathe properly. It's like when you fall down from a tree that you were climbing: when you meet the hard ground, the air escapes your lungs and never returns. Every attempt to inflate the lungs is like if all the people that died because of me –and that are a lot of people- were stabbing me at the same time. My throat feels sore; like it did after the hour I spent screaming because of the panic attack the jabberjays provoked on me.

I look around, searching for the happy and calmed face of my sister, who always knew what to do when a familiar of someone mom was treating started hyperventilating, but I can't find her. She's not here and she will never be, and I will have to keep going with the knowledge that they were my acts what killed her.

Am I better?

I look up after staring at the wall vacantly. Peeta's right in front of me kneeled on the floor next to Haymitch's sofa, in which I realize I'm curled up. He's looking me in the eye, still waiting for a response. His hands stroke my hair and he ventures down now and then to caress my cheek. I'm glad they are not hollow anymore. At least I don't need to be ashamed for that too. Haymitch comes through the door with a mud in his hands. The mug casts a hypnotizing mist. It must contain some warm liquid, an actual change in Haymitch's habits. "Here you are, sweetheart. A full mug of warm chocolate the boy brought to you" says Haymitch while he hands me the mug with a crock sided smile and a regretful expression. I've to be really fucked up if even he looks at me like that.

I take the mug in my hands, letting escape a soft moan when I feel the warmness. This makes the men look at each other and, like if there was something sorted between them, they start moving. "I'll take a blanket for you. It's freezing outside and you must be cold only in those shorts" says Haymitch, heading upstairs. "Yes" confirms Peeta. "I will light a small fire for you".

I look outside. It's summer, why should I be freezing? The night welcomes me through the window. The wind makes eerie noises. Apparently, I've been here longer than I thought.

"I'm not" I say out loud.

Peeta turns his head, staring at me like you'd stare at a ghost with a chocolate mug between its hands. He quickly gains control of his expression, turns to the fireplace and returns to his task lighting the fire. "You've been gone for several hours" he says finally.

I look outside, meeting the darkness again. It must be new moon today, there's no light at all.

"You scared me, Katniss. Fuck, you even scared Haymitch" He drops the lighter on the floor and rubs his golden curls. The wood piled in the fireplace starts cracking and the fire starts lighting the room, warming it slowly. It's not like in the winter months, but the temperature must have dropped severely since the morning. "It's cold" I state as a matter of fact.

Peeta sighs and stands up. I can notice a small limp when he does. He must be hurting because of his leg. He doesn't make any face, though. Slowly, he approaches the sofa and silently asks for permission. I make room for him next to me and he takes a seat. I almost have no space to move, but it's pleasant to feel somebody's heat in my flesh. I look at him, watching the fire make soft patterns on his face. His long eyelashes are shining and seem red spears pointing everywhere under the fire's light.

"The weather changed abruptly by the afternoon" He doesn't meet my eyes while he speaks. He's staring at the fireplace, watching the fire grow. He has his hands entwined in front of him. I could stretch my arm and place my hand upon his right knee to tear his attention away from whatever he's seeing inside the fire, but I don't. Instead, I take a sip from the mug. The chocolate is a bit cold by now, but it's still good. "Is it good?" he asks, this time looking at me. I respond with a nod while I take another sip and look at him from behind the mud. Peeta smiles at it. "I'm glad you like it. Haymitch made it by himself without burning anything on the way". I raise my eyebrows. Haymitch touching a casserole? That's new. "Yeah, I know. Hard to believe, but you had him really worried" he answers my mute question with a short laugh. The sight of our mentor worrying about something else than running out of alcohol is always something to behold. I let a small smile appear in my mouth. "You had me worried too"

I look down to the mug as if the chocolate grounds contained all the answers to the mess that it's our life. "I'm sorry" is the only thing I can say. I'm ashamed of myself for not being able to control my mood, but I just can't help it. It comes like a tsunami sometimes, devastating every happy thought I could hoard in my mind, making me reckless and filling me up with rage and tears. "It's not your fault. It happens to me too, more often than not".

What a mess we are.

It's looking at him in this right moment, bowed with his hands laced together probably for them not to shake without his consent, glistering under the sad orange light of the fire that seems to suit his mood, when I realize how much we need help. On our own maybe we could, with the years, reach a calmed numbness without drinking white liquor. But that would be it.

I don't know if he wants it, but I'm starting to think that I want to keep my promise and stay alive. I don't know if I want to be happy again –I don't even know if I will ever be able- but I've no more strength to be mad at the life. I've no more fire inside me anymore to stir the anger that crept up on me with Prim's death. She's gone and I can't do anything about that. I know. But I can keep eating –at least that's been pleasant lately- and I can keep breathing and, above everything, I can help him to do so. That's the last bullet against the odds I have in the chamber.

Together we are stronger. We always have.

While I was looking at Peeta, Haymitch has come down from upstairs with a blanket and placed it around me without a word. I leave the mug on the floor and grab him by the arm when he's about to leave. He looks at me in the eyes, surprised, but reads my resolve in them and smiles a bit. He always has understood me better than anyone else, and I'm glad for it. I place my right hand on Peeta's knee, startling him from his own thoughts. When I have his attention, I say "I'm not okay. I need help" And just like that, all the weight I've been holding by myself since the war ended lightens a bit.

Peeta places his hand on top of mine and smiles. Haymitch pats me gently on the shoulder with a nod.

I should have tried to hunt down a goose before.

* * *

 _Hello! Sorry for the delay, tons of work to do this week. Anyway, here you are. Thanks to everybody who is supporting this fic by reading it. The reviews are so very welcomed, so drop a line whenever you feel like it :)_

 _By the way, I'm still looking for a beta. Any volunteers? ;)_

 _Thanks again. Read you soon!_


	11. Chapter 11

_**Chapter 11: Crude reality**_

"So, what got into you this morning?" asks Haymitch between one spoonful of soup and another. After our tacit agreement of helping each other, we decided that starting by having dinner was the best thing we could do. I almost forgot I was starving. "You looked like a crazy Annie Cresta the day of the Reaping" he adds, chuckling. The caring mentor is gone. He's turned on again his dumbass mode. Peeta gives him a severe glance. I just roll my eyes.

"I was starving. Sae didn't come in the morning for breakfast and suddenly your geese looked delicious" I say as if that explained the ridiculous situation I got myself into. "Wouldn't it have been easier if you knocked the front door and said 'Good morning, my handsome and marvelous mentor! Would you, please, share with me some of your leftovers?'". He says, grinning and looking at me like the goose did in the morning. Now I know where did it get from that stupid, childish look. "If I'd been in the mood of throwing up with your nasty liquor I'd have graced you with my company, but I was just hungry, Haymitch" I say, not bothering to please him with my scowl, even if it takes everything on me not to do so.

Peeta looks at us, half smiling. "What?" We both snap out at the unison. He chokes into the soup with the glance we both send at him. If looks could kill… "Nothing, it's just pleasant to see that some things never change" he apologizes half-heartedly.

The phrase reminds me of Sae. Where's she?

"Have you seen Sae?" I ask Peeta. He goes to the town often, so I suppose he must see her down there. "No, I haven't seen her. Actually, I don't see her much. She's usually at your house, but you said she wasn't there this morning… maybe she wasn't coming today?" he half says half asks as if I had to know the answer. Maybe she told me but I wasn't paying attention. I just can't recall anything about that. I raise my shoulders, indicating I'm completely lost about it, and we both turn to Haymitch. He looks at us, not knowing what's going on. "What?" he asks.

I roll my eyes, again, and Peeta asks. "If you have seen Sae lately, Haymitch. She wasn't at Katniss' this morning and she can't tell if the woman mentioned anything about not coming today". It takes a couple of seconds for him to process the information, but finally, he speaks. "Oh, yeah, that. I was supposed to tell you that she wasn't coming to yours today, sweetheart. That awkward granddaughter of her is ill. She mentioned something about anemia, but I'm not sure" and he keeps eating as if it didn't matter.

I can remember the first month after my dad passed away.

Having anemia wasn't rare in Twelve –the lack of fresh red meat wreaked havoc-, but every now and then, everybody could eat some dog meat or Sae's special chunky soup. It wasn't much, but it was something. I remember as if it was yesterday my mom's beautiful handwriting plastered on a scrappy paper and see myself handing it to Jackie's dad. I remember the sad face with which he took it from my tiny hands. His little girl –Jackie should have been my age, more or less- had anemia and the only thing my mom could do for her was to prescribe red meat. But that winter had been one of the worst winters ever in District Twelve. There were no deer to hunt. Any other time that man would have left my house with a small piece of meat my dad and I would have hunted that week, but there was nothing in stock. The winter was raging fiercely and it didn't seem to be stopping anytime soon.

Jackie died that same week.

After that, my dad swore to the sky that my sister and I would never run out of fresh meat, but he died ten months later, and the next winter Prim and I were the ones with anemia.

Peeta's hand shaking in front of my eyes startles me from the memory. "Katniss, are you okay?" he asks worriedly. Haymitch glances at me discreetly while he keeps slurping the broth. "Yes, I'm sorry. I was just… thinking" Peeta lets out a relieved sigh and returns to his soup. "Anemia you said?" I ask.

Haymitch takes a few moments before answering to finish with the soup he has left. Suddenly pissed off, he stands up and collects his and Peeta's empty plates. I follow cautiously every step he gives like I'd look at a pack of wild dogs from the distance. He pours some water onto the plates and takes a long sip from the flask of white liquor he always brings with himself. "Are you finished?" he asks, finally turning his attention to me. I look down at my plate. It's almost full and the soup is starting to cool off. My hunger is long forgotten, all my thoughts centered on Sae's granddaughter. "Yes, I suppose" I answer. "But Katniss, you have eaten barely anything" protests Peeta. He tries to stop my mentor's motion, but Haymitch is determined and takes brusquely my plate from the table without breaking eye contact with me. The cold soup goes down the sink and the ceramic of the plate makes an annoying noise when it clashes against the crockery stacked there. Haymitch turns around and leans on the countertop. The scowl on his face deepens before he speaks steadily: "You know something, sweetheart? The war ended several months ago. It's been almost a year after you shot that arrow to Coin's neck. People returned to the Districts, without boundaries this time. They can move back and forth from one District to another, in hopes for a better life. You are the only one confined here. You are the only one left in this country with no freedom, even after everything you gave to them". This last thing he says it pointing out the window with one hand and to the room in which we are with the other. He wants to make a point here: I gave everything to Panem. To them.

I don't know what does he want to state and I'm starting to feel confused, but he resumes his speech before I can think about it. "But you know what, sweetheart? Even with that, you still are sustained by the Capitol. The very same Capitol that cut your Mockingjay wings and tied your future to this burned district" Peeta tries to intercede, a reproving look plastered on his face. "No, boy. She needs to hear it" Haymitch cuts him off, raising a hand in front of his face without looking at him. His eyes bore holes into mine and they won't let go. "The Capitol provides for you, Katniss. It provides for us. We're still Victors to them, the faces of the revolution that freed them from Snow's captivity. So they feed us. They're afraid they will lose us because of a bad winter or because of anemia. So they feed you, the face of the rebellion as if with your death, the newly gained freedom would go down the sink, like your soup. Their soup" he makes a brief stop, only to catch air, and keeps talking. "A few of them feel some kind of remorse, I can tell. Paylor, for example. She provides for you and your future the best she can, given the circumstances. She's not doing it because she takes that bullshit of your goddess condition. She does it because she knows she has used you; like I did, like Snow did, like Coin did. So she feeds you. But there're people out there struggling every day. Because they are the face of nothing, the martyr of nothing, the voice of nothing. They are just casualties in the aftermath of the War. Numbers that keep growing since the Capitol was brought down. The system cannot provide for everyone because the postwar period is always harder than the War itself. There're no crops to harvest in District Eleven; no ships left to go fishing in District Four. The country has to heal, and it takes time. And people will die this winter from anemia, and the next one, and the following, and so on. So you can grow back your wings again and provide for them with your bow or you can keep getting lost in your memories and throwing the soup down the sink".

By the time Haymitch finishes his reprimand, I'm sunken down in my chair, the tears daring to poke out on my eyes. He has no right to ask me for this. They have no right to ask me for anything else after everything I have given for this revolution that I never really and consciously started. Yet deep in my core I know he's right. I can't do much for the country now –not that I really want- but I can do something for the few people that are left in this District. I care for Sae. I care for her granddaughter. I can't let them suffer for something that I could have solved. I know Sae won't ask me to do it, but I can't go on grieving for my sister and ignore them. She won't like that. Actually, she would despise it if I did. She would despise me.

While all of it crosses my mind, I watch Peeta standing up and yelling to Haymitch something about 'not being in the right to ask me for such a thing after everything'. Yet our mentor looks at me with a satisfied and subtle smile, not paying attention at all at Peeta's outburst. He takes me by the hand and drags me out of the kitchen, heading to the front door barking something under his breath, trying not to lose control I guess. Before exiting Haymitch's kitchen and breaking eye contact whit him I hear him saying into my head: "You know I'm right, sweetheart. You need this as much as they do".

I follow Peeta to my house without a word, knowing that that annoying old man knows me better than I do.

* * *

 _Hey there! Sorry for the long absence. It's been a busy month this one, but I keep writing every time I can. Here you are, the eleventh chapter. A strong predominance of Haymitch in this one. He's one of my favorites, so I hope I've portrayed him well. He's complicated and rude, like Katniss, so very funny trying to decipher him and his thoughts. I hope you enjoyed it! :)_

 _Btw, as you can see, there're no betas interested in my fic yet, so I will keep making some mistakes now and then. I encourage you to drop a line if you want to point out some of them to me in a review and, of course, if you just want to let me know what you think about the fic._

 _I promise it won't take this long for the twelfth chapter to come._

 _Just in case, VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS TO EVERYONE! Enjoy the holidays :)_

 _P._


	12. Chapter 12

_**Chapter 12: What I need**_

"I will make you an infusion. A valerian would be okay. Or maybe you prefer a mint tea. Let's see what you have in here…"

Peeta fumbles between cupboards, causing the cups to collide with each other in a noisy way. I know he will only find a few dry mint leaves and maybe some sugar. He keeps talking to himself while he tries to find something useful. The teapot is heating up water on the stove; it will be boiling soon. I try to sit straight in the kitchen chair I'm sitting in before speaking.

"Peeta, I don't want a tea" I say, but he's too occupied making a mess of my cupboards and muttering to himself to hear my weak complain. I clear my voice and try again, louder this time. "Peeta, I said I don't want a tea". He stops his motion and turns his head in my direction, but quickly returns to his labor, finding the mint leaves and saying something like 'this will have to make it'. I start to feel annoyed and when he tries to accommodate my chair so I'm properly seated at the table, I finally snap at him:

"I said I don't want a tea, Peeta! For god's sake, why is it so difficult to understand?". The chair makes an unpleasant noise when I stand up suddenly. It startles Peeta more than my yell does, but at least he stops with the fumbling. "Okay, I'm sorry. It's just that you didn't eat anything after all and I thought…"

"You don't have to think for me. I'm old enough to do that for myself, you know?" I cut him. I know I'm being a bit rude –he just wanted to be nice to me- but his serviceable demeanor is too much sometimes. It is… overwhelming.

Peeta lowers his head and says nothing. We stay rooted to the floor -me looking at him with my fists closed alongside my body and him looking to the floor just across of me- until the teapot starts screaming and he has to move back and switch off the stove. I sit down again in my chair, calmer. When he turns around he still doesn't look at me but speaks clearly. "I'm sorry I bothered you, Katniss. I just wanted to comfort you. What Haymitch said to you was awful. I just wanted, somehow, to fix what he could have broken in you". This said he walks slowly to the front door. Before he gets out of the kitchen, I speak. "He is right" Peeta stops and looks at me, like if I were crazy. Before he starts ranting, I try to vocalize my thoughts. "He is, even if it's awful to hear. I have nothing else to do. There's just this wasted District left for me. I have nowhere to go, yet I have a long life ahead. So, if I have to be stuck in here for who knows how long, I better start cleaning the mess I made. Sae helped me without hesitation; I should at least try and save her granddaughter while I can".

By the time I finish, Peeta is squatting at my side. "You owe them nothing" he says, with a voice so different from the tender Peeta I knew back in time. "They took everything from you for their revolution and they won. You owe them nothing at all". He takes one of my hands between his and looks at me. I study his face, a stern determination plastered all over it. He wants me to be selfish. The generous boy with the bread asks me to be selfish, while he's here, after everything he has endured, looking after me.

Maybe the rage in his eyes is Snow's, but his heart is still his.

"Yet Haymitch is right" Peeta sighs at this and takes a deep breath as if he was about to start a long speech to convince me otherwise, but I keep talking before he starts. "He knows me well, Peeta –even if it's something that annoys me to the core sometimes. But if we have decided we want to get better -that we want to live- I can't do that and just ignore the rest of the world. I wish I could, and I always thought I would be able if the time arrived. Maybe a few years ago I could have run into the woods and forget everyone in here. But there's a slight difference between now and then: I feel responsible for them. Like I did of Prim and my mother. Like I did of you" I caress his cheek at this and his eyes soften a bit. "I can't help to feel that way and I know the culpability won't vanish. I will have to learn to deal with it, so I better start fixing what I can, if only just not to add more burdens to my backpack"

The place is still. Peeta looks at me in a way I can't puzzle. "He's rude and harsh and brutal, but he is right. I need to heal them in hopes of healing myself"

I'm a bit dizzy when I finish my monologue. It has to be the first time in my entire life I have opened up that way and so vocally. I don't know if it's because it was Peeta hearing me or because I really needed to do so, but it feels… redeemer.

Peeta seems to be the one speechless this time. He looks at me the same way he did before, just more intensely. His mouth is slightly opened and his grip in my hand is tender yet firm. When he finally speaks, his voice is low and deep and intense like his look, and I can't recall a time when he talked to me like that: "I want to heal with you".

He tugs from my hand and closes the space between us. There's nothing sexual about it. It's just the seal of a promise. His lips are soft against mine and I can feel something warm awakening in the deepest place of my chest.

I'm already starting to heal.

* * *

 _Another one! One more left before 2018 slaps us in the face, so wait for it this weekend :) I hope you're enjoying it as much as I am. You know I love hearing from you, so keep it up with the reviews!_

 _Thanks for reading._

 _P._


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13: Huntress again**

The first thing I do in the morning the next day is to dust off my bow and the quiver. Someone had already brought them to my house by the time I arrived many months ago. I found them accidentally one day almost a year ago, after messing about around the hall for a couple of hours while I was trying to determine if I wanted to set a foot on the outside. It was before entering my vegetative state prior to Peeta's arrival.

They've been stored there -atop the little cabinet I use to squirrel away the letters I never read and that keep coming- until now. I reach up and bring them down. Even after all this time, my hands barely need a second to recall the feeling of the smooth black surface. The weight comes as easy as the touch does. The quiver is full of arrows and I almost cry at the sight of them, dreading they will be covered in blood. Of course, they aren't. Whoever brought them to me took care of that too.

My shoulder welcomes the weight of the quiver and the thin layer of dust that covers the bow goes away when I blow it off. I bring it up to my face and whisper "Good morning". The bow buzzes and I can't stop the feeling of dizziness that travels throughout my entire body.

It's coming back to life, after all this time, just like me.

I can't find my black finger glove. Maybe whoever brought it never thought I would really shoot an arrow again and believed I didn't need the glove. Maybe they just thought about it as a special souvenir from a propo set and not a real killing weapon. Maybe some people still think that it was all an act.

But I know otherwise.

With my fathers supplies forever gone after the bombing, I have no other gloves left hidden in the woods, so I guess I will have to sew some leather when I get to hunt down a deer and make a new one. What takes me to the next issue: can I hunt again?

I remember the hunts after my first Games. Even with Gale by my side, I couldn't stand for a long time the blood coming out from the animal's wound where an arrow had hit. The memories rushed through my mind like a wave, sweeping away any sense I could have left, and Marvel's and Rue's and Cato's and Glimmer's and Clove's faces danced in front of my eyes, pleading me to kill them, to end with the agony. At some point, after the Quarter Quell and the Twelve's bombing, the deaths I had orchestrated were just too many to count them, so they stopped bothering me until everything ended. Many more deads added to the list during the War, so many friends among them. They all came back after I was found mentally disoriented during the trial and sent back home, confined to the solitude of an untouched Village among the ashes of what once had been my District.

I'm scared to the bone. I don't want to face them again after all these months of relative peace. They still visit me in the night, like ghosts and shadows of the life I once had, but I can cope with that. Now I know I can. With work and a lot of lost days, I hope it will come a day when the good overpowers the bad, even if now that sounds as surreal as a 76th Hunger Games. But I don't want to deal with them out in the woods, alone, with no Gale to watch my back, with no Prim to come back home to.

A golden sparkle catches my eye through the window. Peeta's curls appear and disappear while he works on the soil under my window ledge. I didn't see he coming. The sound of a shovel hitting the dried ground comes next and I can't stand the curiousness for long. The quiver at my back and the bow in hand, I open the door and step out, forgetting momentarily all the dread. The sun shines brightly in the sky, a rarity here in winter. I welcome the fresh pine smell that the soft breeze brings from the north and pull up the jacket collar. Peeta turns around when he hears the door closing.

"Hey, good morning! You're up early today" He's kneeled in the dirt, a small shovel in his right hand. There's sweat covering his face and he tries to wipe it unsuccessfully, getting his forehead dirty with mud. His eyes fly quickly from my eyes to the bow in my hand and before I can assess if his mut side will see this as a threat, a wide smile brightens his look. "You hunting?"

I look down to the bow in my hand, still buzzing in it. With all the novelty going on this morning I forgot to switch it off. "Yeah, sort of" I answer, and look back at him from the top of the three steps in front of my door. I go down the steps in a graceful movement and a wheelbarrow I hadn't seen before blocks partially my way out when I reach Peeta's level. "What are you doing?" I try to see behind Peeta's back standing on my tiptoes and stretching my neck, but his body blocks my vision just like the wheelbarrow does with my path. "Oh, I was just adding some color to your front door. I hope you don't mind it" He takes a small bush from the ground behind him and shows it to me. The word 'rose' is the first thing that comes to my mind. Peeta rises and steps aside with a slightly apologetical look, letting me see whatever he was working in. "I thought you would like it"

They aren't roses. They are primroses. Peeta has planted a full wheelbarrow of primroses in my front door garden.

I hug him, not knowing how am I supposed to answer to this kindness of his. I catch him off guard, but he quickly returns the embrace such easily that you would never imagine he has to fight me in his nightmares every night. "I love it" I say to his ear. Because I do. There's no more acting for the cameras. Whatever I have to say to him from now own it is only for him and no one else.

And I remember that even if I don't have Gale to watch my back in the woods, even if I don't have Prim to come back home to, I still have Peeta. He could be anywhere else, yet he's here, planting primroses in my garden in memory of my beloved sister.

And now I doubt I ever stopped having him.

* * *

The hunting goes smoothly.

After parting ways with Peeta back at my house, the primroses scent overwhelms my senses all the way down the Victor's Village. I peep back now and then until Peeta and my house are out of sight. He isn't looking at me, busily working in the bushes and the dried ground at my front door. I cross the long-dead fence through my usual spot nearest to the Village. I avoid consciously the Meadow. I can't deal with that common pit people in town have built there for the casualties. The gray and ash-covered Meadow I saw when District 13 took me here is more than a nightmare to me already.

The trek through the woods is short till I find the first wild turkey pack. They are wandering far closer to the District than they used before the war. I guess the lack of predators, either human or not, pushed them to venture closer to the fence. I refuse to think about the corpses and how that can have affected to their closeness. The arrows fly easily from my bow, hitting a target before scaring away the rest of the pack. They run loudly, unable to fly, when I emerge from behind the tree I was hidden in and they finally realize what was happening. Ceremoniously, I extract the arrow from the turkey's neck, the same way I have done dozens of times before. I give thanks to the woods for they meal they help me bring home like my father taught me I should. It's like a ritual, something automatical that pops into my mind with the sound of flesh parting in a loud thunk of an arrow ripping it. Something to be thankful for, because the mother nature was the only one that never stopped providing and caring for me. My father used to say that we get what we give, so I keep thanking mother nature for everything she still gives me, after every ounce of horror I have brought to her during this war. After all the flesh I have ripped with my arrows.

I avoid staring too much at the blood-stained arrowhead, because I'm still unstable, and search for a place to pluck the turkey. My feet move without my express consent and I find myself climbing the hill to my usual rendezvous spot with Gale. My brain plays games with me and I almost can see him sitting on the rock we shared so many times. His shoulders move while he skins a rabbit and a couple of wild turkeys like the one I carry under my armpit lay at his feet. A feather of the plucked turkeys rests between his thick, black hair and I reach out with my hand to take it. I can almost feel the sensation of his hair between my fingers and his smoky scent fills my nostrils for a moment. I close my eyes and enjoy the feeling of the good old days. When I open them, he's gone. I'm left alone to pluck the turkey in solitude and I force myself to remember he's not that man I knew anymore. That he got lost in these woods the day Snow bombed our District.

I take a seat on the rock facing the valley. It's as green as I can remember, the snow only present in the peaks of the surrounding mountains in these last days of winter. The deer should be coming down to the valley by now, searching for fresh grass fields to graze until the spring blooms. I should try and hunt down one. Sae's granddaughter needs red meat and the turkey's meat won't do it. I pluck easily the animal, tie it to my waistband and start descending to the valley. After a mile or two, I hear wild dogs howling and I slow the pace. My ears search for the pack, wherever it is. A couple of wild dogs could restrain Gale and me perched in a tree for hours, so I'm not risking to face a whole pack. After a couple of minutes, I hear the howling again -closer this time- and I climb to a branch of the nearest tree. I'm not as agile as I once was, but I hope it will get easier if I keep venturing into the woods again. Quietly, I sense more than observe what goes on under my tree. The bushes from my left stir and a beautiful deer comes out to the clearing under my branch. The naïve, young deer remains unconscious of the peril that surrounds it. I load an arrow in my bow but when I'm about to shoot, a wild dog jumps from the bushes on my right and catches the deer and myself off guard. I almost fall from the branch and have to brace myself to the tree to recover position, losing the arrow I had on my bow. It falls to the ground, next to the dog and the deer, but they're too busy fighting for their lives to notice me. The deer is strong but it can do nothing against the astute old dog. The fray is short and the deer is dead in a couple of minutes. I know I have to decide my next move quickly because the rest of the pack is in the surroundings for sure. Soon, they will be here, claiming a part of the meat the old dog has hunted down, and I will be stuck up here until they're gone. And that could take hours…

Hoping I have decided wisely, I shoot an arrow at the dog's eye before it can react to my movement. I let the proudness of hitting the target rush over me for a few milliseconds before hopping down the branch and hurrying to grab it. The deer is too big for me to carry with a pack of dogs at my heels, so I pray for it to be enough to entertain the dogs while I hurry away with their leader. I'm not happy with the blood trail I'm leaving behind, but I can't do more than dragging the dog out of the woods uphill. It's not as big as the deer, but I'm not as fit as I used to be neither.

I don't stop until the fence is at sight. I catch my breath in the clearing line that separates the trees from the fence and cross it without hesitation. Because of the rush, I reach the fence in a point nearer to the town than I intended. I haven't set a foot into it since I came back a year ago, so it scares me and amazes me at the same time the change I see. There are small cottages built next to the working zone where some people strive to clean the area that used to be occupied by a merchant neighborhood, I guess. I can't recognize it well since there aren't any foundations of my old District to use as a reference. I can only guess it for the spot in the fence I crossed through.

I drag the dog through the neighborhood, knowing that there's no turning back. I could cross the fence and walk along it until I reach the nearest spot to the Village, but that would force me to cross the Meadow and I'm not doing that. The few man that work in whatever they're working ignore me at first, maybe not realizing I was carrying a bow and a dead dog at my back. I'm not that lucky for long, though, and they soon start talking under their breath while they point at me. I hurry and step it up, the turkey bouncing on my hip and making me clumsy. Some houses enter my view by the time I reach what should have been the schoolyard. They are well built, with bricks and roof tiles and everything. I'm starting to wonder where will Sae live when a voice calls me from behind: "Hey, Katniss!" The voice sounds familiar, so I stop my pace and turn around. Thom hurries behind me, sweat and dirt covering his face and forearms. I can remember him well. He was one of Gale's best friends in the mining crew. He was shy but nice and I remember enjoying his company when Gale brought him with us to The Hob. "Hey, Thom. How are you? It's been long" And it has, indeed. It's been almost two years since I last saw him. "Fine, I guess" His reply hangs weird in the air. Nobody is fine. As if reading my mind he adds: "I occupy my time rebuilding the District. It helps" He shrugs and the previous crooked smile returns to his face. At my absence of words, he keeps talking. "Nice hunt. May I help you with something? It looks heavy" He points to my hip and laughs. I laugh with him because he has ignored on purpose the wild dog I carry at my back. "Yeah, I guess you could help me with this turkey. The dog I can manage it better than you" I reply. "I don't have a single doubt" he says laughing.

I tell him I'm searching for Sae's house while he loosens the rope with which I had tied the turkey to my belt. He points me out the last house in the line of the ones ahead and we walk together to the place. The silence we walk in is comfortable and I'm glad he doesn't ask anything about me and where I've been hidden the last year. They know for sure I was in Twelve –it was public domain that I was sent home after the trial, but my state of mind wasn't. I'm sure there has been money bet on my sanity all over the country.

When we reach the door, Thom stops before knocking. "I'm sure she will be glad you're bringing them this, Katniss" After a pause, he adds: "And we are all glad you're back". He taps me on the shoulder and hurries back to his workplace. I look at him jogging back until he get's lost behind the bricks pilled on the side of the road. There must be more blueprints to rebuild the District than hands to actually do it. Not wanting to let his words sink in, I knock the door. Shortly after, Sae opens it. "About time you came! I was waiting for that". She takes the dog from my back without permission –not that she needs it after all- and I'm left alone in the house entrance, assessing if I, somehow, announced my whereabouts without knowing it. I look around, not sure of what am I supposed to do until Sae calls me from the inside "Come on in, girl! What are you waiting for? An invitation?"

And just like that, the simplicity of the old District Twelve starts to bring down the walls of our hearts again.

* * *

 _Hello! And a very Happy New Year for those on the east side of the world!_

 _Here you are, the 13th installment of the story. As I promised, before 2018 arrives (sorry, easteros citizens. I update on GTM +1 time zone). I hope you enjoy this specially_ looooong _chapter. Let me know your thoughts about it!_

 _A big hug and a Happy New Year to everybody. Xoxo_

 _P._


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